


Snuffed Flame

by Blue_Orchid15



Series: An Apprentice's Perspective [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Canon Non-Binary Character, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Rating May Change, Red Plague (The Arcana), Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26769223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Orchid15/pseuds/Blue_Orchid15
Summary: Fire is the opposite of water but yet it entwined two apprentices' fates.  Hawthorne's life before the plague could be seen as luxury when looking at face value.  However, there has always been more than meets the eye when it comes to the Fiery MC.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s), julian devorak - Relationship
Series: An Apprentice's Perspective [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951351





	Snuffed Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Hawthorne's Origin Story, sorry it has taken so long but here we go. Also thank you to my friends that looked over for grammar and making sure it flowed well.

Many people have asked me about my past and sometimes even my first memory. I had promised myself long ago that I would never let anyone know where I was truly from. I wanted people to see my life now but yet those two questions were always something that appeared in my travels. I guess that is why I decided to finally write all of this down in this journal that I have to say is one of the most beautiful leather bounds that I have come across in my many years of travelling. This is where I will tell the truth as to who I actually am.

I believe the best place to start would be my first vivid memory. This small memory would have to be going on my first hunt with my father and watching the snow-white rabbit slowly being tainted by a deep red. My father was attempting to teach me how to use a bow and after seeing me fail with stationary objects he decided that a moving object would be the best way to go. He was the type of person to believe that people learned best by experience and this rabbit was an example of how I truly sucked at archery.

I remember his heavy steps through the crunching snow as he walked towards the whimpering rabbit that was currently suffering a slow death because of the arrow that did not hit its mark. My father had taught me that a clean and quick death was the best thing to do for many things and the sickening crack of his mercy echoed through the silent woods. He turned to me and held the rabbit up proudly while I glumly walked towards him with my bow at my side.

“You were not able to succeed a quick death this time but you were able to hit the rabbit. I believe having us hunt like this a couple of times a week should get you to learn the bow in no time,” he patted me roughly on the shoulder.

I was going to be the next leader of our tribe and my father had this incessant faith that I would one day be ready to take over that role. However, I did not have this blind faith in myself since I knew that if I could fail at something as simple as that how could I succeed at leading our people? Cypress, my younger sister, was the gifted one out of the two of us when it came to not only hunting but possibly even being a better leader than myself if we were to compare how we interacted with the fellow children. Our father would immediately shoot down any thoughts of her becoming the next leader, and that was where I knew I was stuck in that position for life.

Along with the constant stream of him discussing my future leadership he would speak with the council of an entirely different name. Father would mention the name Morga with such fear in his eyes and after pretending to be asleep one night he spoke with my mother about her attacking another tribe. My mother would try to console him by mentioning how ours was similar to Morga’s but ever since then he lived in a constant state of paranoia. This particular aspect might have been why he was so insistent on my future of being the leader.

We continued to hunt every week and every time my father would plop the small creature that he had to put out of its misery into my hands. Soon after I was able to feel the fur and the stickiness of the blood on my hands even when there was nothing. Cypress had been the messy one and seemed to enjoy it, but here I was shuddering like a leaf trying to wipe the feeling off my hands. Our father was proud of me yet I felt like I would never deserve that sense of pride, and as I grew up Cypress would show disdain towards me. While I was unable to succeed at hunting or leading, the one thing I was able to succeed at was speaking with the Seers and elders.

I would find ways of escaping the council meetings and interact with these people to learn about things that truly interested me. They would make a form of paint and spread it on their faces to show the runes that they needed or identified with. The tradition of our tribe was to show these symbols as a form of adulthood, yet having the ability to show our acceptance into the tribe. Some simply painted for temporary usage but others would have it be etched into their skin permanently, and that was the way I promised I would do myself in the future.

At thirteen I gained my first symbol on my forehead and I had the elders make a rune of Separation, but at the same time it meant inheritance. My father believed it was me finally accepting my role as the next leader, but my thought was separating myself from my thoughts of the tribe. I decided that I would not be the next leader and I would find a way to achieve that goal in the end. However, because of my father’s thoughts this rebellion quickly went out of proportion.

I was expected to become more of a leader after gaining the symbol, but as I continued to skip meetings my sister Cypress grew even more disappointed in me. My sister would scold me and my father would scold her for even thinking of talking back to me, but would treat me like I did nothing wrong. The irony of Cypress becoming disappointed in me was how I thought the youngest was always supposed to look up to the oldest. Alas, Cypress was always able to beat the norm to a pulp. Life continued on like that, I learned more about the runes, Cypress would scold me, my father continued his expectations of me, and I had gained two more symbols. However, when I turned sixteen my life would change forever... as a group of three arrived on our grounds.


End file.
